


kiss it off me

by scoups_ahoy



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Drabble, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Inspired by Music, M/M, Smoking, but what else is new, the authors waxes poetic about jeonghan, there's some brief gyuhan if you squint really really hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoups_ahoy/pseuds/scoups_ahoy
Summary: “Stay.”He whispers it without thinking, whispers it into the wisps of smoke undulating from the cigarette between Jeonghan’s fingers.  Whispers it against soft skin, ethereal and heavenly beneath the moonlight that spills in through the open window.  Whispers it even though he knows he shouldn’t, even though he knows how Jeonghan will react.Still, Seungcheol waits with bated breath, mapping skin he memorized months ago with his hands and mouth.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69





	kiss it off me

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when i listen to cigarettes after sex for more than five minutes. this is inspired by their song "kiss it off me", from which the title is taken!
> 
> not sure how much i really like this but i wanted to practice with descriptive writing and, like, ambiguity lmao. so have some angsty friends with benefits. always fun, right?

**kiss it off me.**

“Stay.”

He whispers it without thinking, whispers it into the wisps of smoke undulating from the cigarette between Jeonghan’s fingers. Whispers it against soft skin, ethereal and heavenly beneath the moonlight that spills in through the open window. Whispers it even though he knows he shouldn’t, even though he knows how Jeonghan will react.

Still, Seungcheol waits with bated breath, mapping skin he memorized months ago with his hands and mouth.

Head turned towards the window, eyes focused on something Seungcheol can’t see, Jeonghan takes a drag from his cigarette. Seungcheol dares to watch. Dares to look up from between his slender legs and take in that which still seems so intangible to him - even though he’s spent countless nights like this. Lost in a dream, pressing Jeonghan into his mattress, allowing himself the one thing he knows he can’t truly have. He could spend the rest of his existence with Jeonghan in his arms and every touch, every moment, would still feel illusory. Even now, looking at him as he rests against the headboard, so utterly out of place amongst Seungcheol’s temporal belongings, Seungcheol can’t _believe_ it.

How beautiful he is; how sweetly the moonlight catches his white-blond hair, still tangled from the way Seungcheol ran his fingers through it. How dark and lovely the marks left on his body look, the only reminder that Jeonghan is indeed mortal, of this world.

Then Jeonghan turns towards him, exhaling a cloud of smoke, and Seungcheol looks away again. He feels chastised, as if he’d seen something he shouldn’t have.

“You know I can’t.”

Jeonghan’s voice is low and throaty, and Seungcheol hears the echoes of his moans in his head. The way he wavers when he’s close. The way Seungcheol can make him fall apart so easily.

Sometimes, when Seungcheol asks him to stay the night, he’ll say nothing. Just smoke his cigarette and stub it out in the ashtray that sits on Seungcheol’s bedside table, the one he bought for Jeonghan and no one else - and then he’ll move from the bed. Dress as quietly as he smoked. Leave without a word, to head home into arms that don’t deserve him as much as Seungcheol doesn’t.

Sometimes, when Seungcheol asks him to stay, he refuses in between threads of smoke. Looks at him with those tired eyes and forms words Seungcheol hates hearing, with swollen, kiss-bitten lips.

Seungcheol doesn’t know which he hates more.

He presses a final kiss to the inside of Jeonghan’s thigh, stroking over the soft friction his stubble made against such exquisite skin, and shifts to sit next to him. The headboard is sturdy against his back and _1:03_ burns bright red from the table on Seungcheol’s side. If he was smart he’d kick Jeonghan out and try to get some sleep. But he won’t even entertain the thought; Jeonghan leaving is the worst sort of withdrawal. Seungcheol is always left aching, needing, _craving_ until he can get another taste.

Even then, it never seems like enough.

Jeonghan takes another drag, exhales another cloud of smoke, and Seungcheol watches it twist and curl through the air until it dissipates somewhere near the ceiling. It’ll sit there like all the others, sinking into the walls, into the sheets, into the rug, until Seungcheol’s bedroom smells of it. Until he can’t get rid of it.

Like he’d ever want to.

He remembers the moment he fell in love with it; stripping the covers from his bed the morning after that first time. Jeonghan was long gone, nothing but a memory recalled in the soreness of Seungcheol’s body, in the roughness of his voice, but the rustic, acrid scent of his cigarettes was stuck to Seungcheol’s sheets.

Now, Jeonghan shifts against the headboard, tugging his knees up to his chest, and Seungcheol follows his movements until his stomach’s twisting in on itself, in desire, in some kind of self-loathing.

“I should go,” Jeonghan says, tapping ash into the ceramic tray.

In his head, Seungcheol begs him to stay again - with his words, with his mouth, his hands. And Jeonghan agrees. Stubs out his cigarette and kisses Seungcheol with smoke on his tongue. Kisses Seungcheol until they’re both breathless. Until there’s stars in his eyes and Seungcheol falls in love all over again.

In reality, Seungcheol gives up. Watches as Jeonghan stubs out his cigarette and dresses slowly, quietly. Rests against the headboard as Jeonghan leaves without a word, without a kiss goodbye. Without a look back.

The room is quiet now, the kind of quiet that lets Seungcheol’s mind race unabated, and he gets up from the bed. Moves towards the window. Activity on the street a few floors below catches his focus. A man leans against a sleek, black car, illuminated by midnight street lights - he’s tall, broad, and handsome, even from a distance. Jeonghan’s perfect type.

Maybe that’s why he never stays longer than it takes to smoke a cigarette; Seungcheol isn’t what he thinks he wants.

The man smiles as a figure approaches. A figure with blond hair tangled by Seungcheol’s fingers.

Jeonghan leans into this man, into the kiss he’s given, into a touch he must know just as well as Seungcheol’s - and Seungcheol wonders what lies he’s told. Every night they do this, he wonders what this man knows, what he thinks as he holds Jeonghan close, picking him up at one-thirty in the morning from an apartment complex he’s never been inside. He wonders if he can smell the bitter scent of sex on his boyfriend’s clothes, or if the smoke masks it.

Seungcheol wonders if he’s dependent on Jeonghan, too.

Maybe not, since he’s the one that gets to hold him while he sleeps.

After Seungcheol fucks him, though.

A ghostly giggle, tortuously familiar to Seungcheol’s ears, echoes through the night and Jeonghan pulls away from the man. Turns towards Seungcheol as if he can feel him watching. Can feel the weight of his gaze.

Whatever smile was on his face falters now.

Seungcheol closes the curtains, heart aching in a way he hates yet can’t seem to live without.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, and let me know what you thought!!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/scoups__ahoy) | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/scoups__ahoy)


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